” She could have handled ten times the weight, and hoisted him on her back and carried him too. She was clear there were no other minds like them in all the world. He hated himself a little for it. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing.
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